


Divine

by AMidnightDreary, Rabentochter



Series: Frostiron Advent Calendar 2019 [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Feels, Getting Together, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMidnightDreary/pseuds/AMidnightDreary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: In a world where people miss a random sense until they meet their soulmate, Tony got especially lucky: he doesn't have a proper sense of touch.It crashes down on him when Loki invades Earth.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Series: Frostiron Advent Calendar 2019 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558924
Comments: 42
Kudos: 703





	Divine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaxonkreide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaxonkreide/gifts).



> Nobody is surprised that Jax' gift has something to do with soulmates, right?
> 
> We hope you like it! ❤

Tony is forty-two when his soulmate invades Earth, and saying that his world crashes would be an understatement.

He sees Loki in Stuttgart and actually manages to get out a threat and a ridiculous nickname, but then he’s already getting dizzy. The last thing he sees is Loki’s eyes, widening in something awfully similar to panic, but then Loki is already the very last thought on Tony’s mind. He isn’t sure if it is supposed to be like that. From everything he read, he thought that the moment he met them, his soulmate would be the _only_ thought on his mind; he didn’t expect them to fade out in comparison to, well - 

Literally everything else.

Tony can feel the fabric of his undersuit on his skin. It’s soft. The insides of his gloves are warm, but he can feel the metal beneath his fingers. Smooth, and hard. He’s sweating in his suit, and there are a few drops trickling down his neck in this very second. 

Rogers reaches out to steady him when Tony falters, but apparently he is too heavy even for a supersoldier, so Tony ends up on his floor in his suit and tries to breathe. Rogers next to him is all but panicking, but Tony ignores him, doesn’t have another choice except ignoring him, because he suddenly remembers that he just met his soulmate.

The face plate of his helmet slides up, and the cool evening air is a fucking revelation. It takes a few minutes, but eventually Tony gets over that, and then he looks at the alien who is sitting across of him. Loki looks exactly how Tony feels, and Tony isn’t sure if that is meant to reassure him, but it really doesn’t.

“Well,” he croaks out, feeling like he has to puke. “How about that.”

-

The thing about senses is this: when you’ve never had one of them, all explanations are completely, maddeningly useless. Poems have been written about the color green, dozens of shelves are filled with books that try and fail to describe the taste of strawberries. It's almost ridiculous how desperately humans try to understand something they can't possibly understand until they meet their _other half._

Tony’s never been one of them. When he was born, it took his parents years to figure out what sense he was even missing, and when they eventually did, Maria cried. Tony remembers that. He also remembers not understanding _why_ his mother cried, and he still doesn’t - his somatosensory system is a mess, yes, but it could be worse. Not being able to see or hear would be much, much worse. And it isn’t like he can’t feel _anything_ \- his skin does register temperature changes, sometimes even the feel of a breeze, he can tell when he is being touched by something or someone. And he can touch in return; by now he has figured out how pressure works, even though he can’t feel any textures beneath his fingertips. 

When he was younger, many people tried to tell him what velvet feels like, or how nice it is to bury one’s bare feet in grass or sand. By now, nobody tries anymore, because the first thing you will learn when speaking to Tony Stark is that he doesn’t take kindly to being reminded that he is lacking anything at all. 

He knows, of course, that he _is_ lacking something. He also knows that the people missing their sense of touch are pitied pretty much by the whole world. But Tony has long gotten used to this sort of numbness, and he doesn’t really mind anymore. In fact, it’s often an advantage. He can’t be tickled, for one thing, and itchy clothes don’t, well, _itch._ He also doesn’t feel superficial pain like others do, either, which is a good thing when your father has a quickly raised hand, or when some idiots try to torture you in a cave in Afghanistan.

So, yes. This ruins pretty much everything. Because Tony was _fine,_ okay? Yeah, maybe he dreamed about finding his soulmate when he was a kid, but he gave that up. He didn’t need a sense of touch, and he certainly doesn’t need a soulmate - hell, he doesn’t _want_ one. He never did, mostly for his soulmate’s sake, because whoever they are, they’re better off without him. 

_Loki_ would be better off without him. He would be better off without Tony.

Everybody can see that, right?

-

Money and fame can get you far. But apparently even they are not powerful enough to save you from being thrown into a cage with your newly-found soulmate, at least not when said newly-found soulmate is a magician from outer space whose wettest dream seems to be about world domination. It’s all for Tony’s safety, of course, and strangely enough also for Loki’s safety - freshly bonded soulmates need to be protected, after all. 

Tony is already making a mental list of everyone he’s going to sue.

On the other side of the cage, Loki is sitting with his back against the glass, long legs drawn up and knees pressed against his chest. His eyes are fixed on Tony, haven’t looked at something else ever since they entered the helicarrier together. Tony doesn’t look at him. He can’t stand looking at him, because if he looks at him, he will want to crawl to Loki and see and hear and smell and taste and _touch_ him and that, no, that’s just. No. _Fuck, please. Let me._

He never wanted anything more.

Tony takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He’s had about a dozen quiet panic attacks since landing in Stuttgart. His fingers can’t stop touching everything they can reach and he lets them, because it’s the best distraction he has at the moment. The Black Sabbath shirt he is wearing is one of his favorites, because he likes the way it looks and well, he also likes Black Sabbath. Now, he also likes the way it _feels._ He rubs the fabric between two fingertips. He can feel the threads at the hem of the shirt, and here and there he finds tiny holes or scorched spots, from his work. It’s the most fascinating thing.

He finds himself wondering what leather feels like.

“You are Tony Stark.”

Tony opens his eyes again and looks at Loki, because he can’t help it. Loki looks right back at him. His face is blank, but the color of his eyes - what is that color? Green? Blue? Or gray? Tony can't tell, but the expression in it is... raw. Scared, maybe. Tony swallows.

“Yeah,” he says. “Hi.”

Loki doesn’t say anything.

“And you’re Loki, what? Odinson?”

One corner of Loki’s mouth curls up into a joyless smirk. Tony wants to touch it. “No,” Loki says evenly. “Just Loki.”

Tony nods slowly, eyes skittering away again. He doesn’t know what to say. That’s annoying, because Tony _always_ knows what to say. He never stops talking, usually.

“It seems that we are stuck with each other, now,” Loki says, very quietly.

Tony snorts. “Yeah,” he repeats. “Sucks, huh?”

Loki inclines his head, just a little, but stays silent. Maybe he isn’t sure if he disagrees or not.

Minutes pass.

“Okay, look,” Tony says. “I won’t let you take over Earth.”

Loki sighs and nods. “I suppose that is fair, yes.”

“You’re going to call the whole thing off. You’re going to capitulate, and maybe then we can -”

“It is not that easy,” Loki interrupts him. “If I fail - which I already have, no doubt -, the army will simply come at another time.” He pauses, looks at his knees, and eventually says, “I would help you prepare. I would stay with you, if you’d have me.”

Tony stares at him. Loki’s quiet voice tugs at something in Tony’s own chest. _He’s mine_ , he thinks, for the very first time. He can’t do anything against it. Loki _is_ his. The feel of Tony’s shirt beneath his fingers is the proof.

“What about Thor?”

“Last time I checked, he was not my soulmate,” Loki deadpans. “For which I am rather thankful.”

For the split of a second, Tony's smirk turns into a smile. “Okay, yeah. But I mean - he'll want to take you with him.”

“Yes,” Loki agrees easily. “The Allfather probably wants my head.”

The panic that rushes through Tony isn't unfamiliar. The last time he felt it his head was held underwater by someone who wouldn't have cared whether he died or not. 

“Right,” he says, and after a moment he adds: “You're coming with me, then.”

And that's it, really.

-

The first time they hold hands, Tony nearly blacks out. 

He can't even say how it happened. Doesn't know who reached out first. They are in the middle of arguing with Thor and Fury, and suddenly they are holding hands.

Tony has held hands before. He has been touched before. But it was always… a thing that happened now and then, nothing more. Many people wanted to touch him in his life, and Tony let them. It wasn't anything special. A touch of fingers was the same as being touched by anything else. Skin felt just like fabric or the surface of a table, there wasn't the tiniest difference.

Touching Loki's hand now _is_ different. His skin is cool and soft, his hand the only solid thing in Tony's world. His nerve endings suddenly remember the reason why they exist at all. It's so much better than touching his shirt or running his fingers over the smooth glass wall of their cage. 

It's everything, and Tony grips Loki's hand tighter. 

-

“Uh. And you're sure you're going to survive this, right?”

“Of course,” Loki says. He rolls back his shoulders and then stands perfectly still. “Go ahead. Please.”

Tony, who isn't very convinced that this is a good idea, swallows and puts on his helmet. He waits until his repulsors are at full power, then uses them to send Loki flying - directly against the nearest wall, which Loki hits so hard that the concrete crumbles. Loki ends up lying more or less face down on the floor, and Tony knows that he shouldn't find this whole thing hilarious, but he kind of does.

He lifts the faceplate of his helmet. “Was that enough?”

Loki makes a noise that sounds half like affirmation and half like he's been thrown into a wall. 

“That was for Coulson, you know.”

Loki grunts and manages to roll onto his back. “Absolutely fair,” he says, still wheezing.

When Tony helps his soulmate up, he notices how green Loki's eyes are.

-

“Can I?” Tony asks, two days after they told the entire world to leave them alone and went to Malibu.

Loki nods, even though he can't have any idea what Tony wants. Or well, maybe he does; he probably wants exactly the same things, after all.

Tony climbs into Loki's lap, very carefully, and gives them both a moment to adjust. Touch is a very odd thing. Tony's feet are bare, and a few seconds ago the carpet was the best fucking thing he has ever felt. (At the moment, every new thing he touches feels like the best fucking thing he's ever felt.) Now he feels Loki's thighs beneath his own, warm and solid. Then, the leather of Loki's jacket, finally _._

And, god, it's _divine._ Quite literally.

“Oh,” Tony says, a bit dumbly. His hands are just resting on Loki's chest, getting accustomed to the feeling. The leather is surprisingly soft.

“I know,” Loki says. “I like it, too. But - can I -”

Tony looks up into the other's eyes. He swallows. “Sure. Anything.”

He kind of expects Loki to want to touch him in return, but Loki doesn't do that. No, Loki just squirms a bit, and then the leather gleams and shimmers and turns into something that is not leather at all. Tony can _feel_ the magic, a prickling beneath his palms - maybe that's what putting his hand into fire would feel like, if fire was tepid instead of blazing hot.

“Oh,” Tony says again.

He can feel Loki's heartbeat. The shirt he is wearing now is thin and made of… made of… well, _some_ sort of fabric, and it feels nice. Tony lets his hands wander over Loki's chest, and belatedly realizes that it isn't moving at all.

“You can breathe, you know,” he says, and maybe that reminds Loki that he should be breathing, because the air he's been holding leaves his lungs in an audible exhale.

“I'm not sure if I can,” he says then, breath hitching, and puts his hands on Tony's hips.

So, Tony's hips have been touched before. Many times. By many people. It never felt like anything special, and now Tony isn't sure if the touch _should_ feel special or if this is just him losing his shit over ridiculous things, but having Loki's hands on him is - yes, again, _fucking divine._ It sends a pleasant thrill through his body, even though Loki isn't even touching skin. It's such a simple sensation, and Tony already knows that he won't ever get enough of it.

Judging by the look on Loki's face, he's having a similar epiphany.

“This is insane,” Tony whispers, his voice nearly breaking. “I don't - I don't know how -”

“It's fine,” Loki cuts him off, his voice low and gentle. His eyes are so much greener than they were in Stuttgart. “This is… nice.”

The understatement of the century. It makes Tony's lips widen into a lopsided grin, and after a moment Loki returns it.

Tony's fingers move all on their own. First they fiddle around with the laces at Loki's collar, then they find the soft hollow between Loki's clavicles. Tony stills, and Loki sucks in a sharp breath.

This is what skin feels like, then. No, even better - this is what _Loki's_ skin feels like. A little warmer than his hands - Loki's hands are always cold -, and soft. Loki's pulse is right beneath Tony's fingers, and something about it all makes Tony's throat tighten.

“Anthony,” Loki whispers.

“Mhh.” Tony is distracted by the wonder that is Loki's left collar bone. The curve of his Adam's apple, his throat. His jawline. _Oh god._

“Can I kiss you?”

Tony forgets how breathing works. He looks at Loki, who looks back at him, the green of his eyes barely visible anymore. His face is flushed, and Tony wants to touch his cheekbones so badly that his fingers twitch. Tony's nerve endings don't know what to do with all this input, they're not _used_ to any input at all. It's incredible and addicting and far, far too much; how do people _do_ this sort of thing without combusting?

Tony wants more of it. He wants everything.

“Yeah,” he gets out. “Could make me faint, though. Or something.”

“Yes,” Loki says, which probably means that he feels the same. 

His fingers squeeze Tony's hips. The look in his eyes is too much. Too open, too hopeful, too adoring. (Tony wants more of that, too.) He watches Loki swallow.

Loki's hands stroke up Tony's sides. “But I think -”

“Worth it?” Tony gasps, and Loki nods, and suddenly they are kissing.

Tony's world crashes again. In a good way this time, though.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the art on [tumblr ](https://rabentochter.tumblr.com/post/189527710984/divine-for-jaxonkreide) 🙌


End file.
